Fun Cancer Facts

Ha! I got you there! There are no fun facts when it comes to cancer. But let's give it a try.

Endometrial stromal sarcomas

Undifferentiated sarcomas used to be considered a type of endometrial stromal sarcoma, but since they are more aggressive and are treated differently from low-grade tumors, they are now considered separately. These cancers make up less than 1% of all uterine cancers and tend to have a poor outlook.

Chemo

 My task vision was affected after my first chemo infusion. I had to use my reading glasses to use the computer.

Numbness

The skin over my tumors feels numb, like getting novocaine before dental work. Feels weird to scratch my skin.

Weight (loss)

You lose weight when you have cancer!

Fred

I named my port Fred. Even before I had it, I knew it would be a Fred. Quiet, unassuming, hanging around the periphery. Useful, utilitarian. Annoying and in-the-way.

Fred and I were joined on November 19th. Another one of those days that has significance. My sister's birthday. Nice day. My mother's funeral. Not nice day. Fred. Definitely not nice day.

Fred usually makes his presence known. Lie on my side, and Fred is there taking up more space than there is under my chest muscles. Move my head, yep, Fred again, just being tight enough for me to always know he's there.

Fred did come in handy last week for my first chemo "infusion" (another word for pumping me full of poison). I didn't even feel the poke of the non-coring needle needed for Fred, the power port. He kept me very comfortable for two-and-a-half hours. Which is his only purpose in my life.

Fred can be a bit of a rogue. He donned a dashing moustache and google eyes for the nurse. I think she was very taken by him.

When a radiology surgeon says the scar looks good, take a second look

Got some stuff to catch up on. As you can see from the date of the post, it's almost a month since I found out I have cancer. I thought about doing a blog, but never got around to it. So here I am.

Although the oncologist said I had great veins and didn't need to get a port, I decided to get one anyway. Just one less thing to worry about. And I would have had to access my veins 36 times for the chemo and for weekly blood draws. A port is a catheter (long, hollow plastic tube) connected to a plastic and metal reservoir.  When the catheter was placed in my chest, the catheter tip will be in a large vein in the chest, with the tip just above the heart. The net result is a large bump under the skin.




A week after the port is placed, the surgeon checks it to make sure it is safe to use. When a radiology surgeon says the scar looks good, don't believe her. Surgeons care about medical aspects, not aesthetic ones. The scar is bumpy, irregular, and ugly. So much for truth in advertising.

Remembrance Day 2014

I was in London in the late 2000s for Remembrance Day (Armistice Day), when the UK commemorates the victims of the First and Second World Wars and remember the members of the British and Commonwealth services who have fought in modern conflicts. (The same day in the US is known as Veteran's Day, a US National Holiday that honors people who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces.)

It was a very special day to be in London, especially at 11:00 am, when everyone (yes, everyone!) stopped what they were doing for 2 minutes of silence. Poppies have been used to commemorate soldiers who have died in war since the 1920s, and poppies were everywhere. Especially moving were the grounds of Westminster Abbey, where small plots of land were designated for each of the units that fought in the wars, and a poppy was placed for each man killed in the line of duty.

I had a different kind of Remembrance Day in 2014. This was the day I found out I had cancer, again. Undifferentiated endometrial stromal sarcoma to be exact. A rare, aggressive kind of cancer. The kind of cancer I thought I had beat in September 2013.

Chemo was recommended, although the oncologist did let Bob and me make the final decision. I am starting a chemo regimen of 6 cycles, four weeks per cycle, in the hope that I can gain some quality time. There is no cure. I can stop at any time I chose. I'll have another CT scan after two cycles to see if the chemo is having any effect on the cancer.

So now starts the flurry of activities and decisions: are my blood values good, do I want a port or use my veins for the treatments, when can I expect to be most fatigued, can I keep working. . .